


Where the Heart Is (Part 1)

by Gebo



Series: Where the Heart Is [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gebo/pseuds/Gebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>temporalteatime prompted: Let’s say the castle has magic all on its own. Due to some kind of disturbance, it’s acting wacky and sends Belle all over the place. She has to call for help to get out of many situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heart Is (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Tea has inspired me to make this a series. There should be about 4 or 5 parts total when this is done. I hope you enjoy!

The first time Belle found herself magically transported randomly within the Castle, it hadn’t been so bad. She had simply been on the third rung of her ladder, dusting the high fireplace mantle of some ballroom, when with there was a suddenly breeze at her skirts, a whistling noise, and then a sharp pain in her ankle as it turned. She cried out, stumbling a few steps before the realized she was no longer on the ladder, but standing on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Looking around quickly, Belle expected to see Rumpelstiltskin lurking in a corner with a mischievous grin on his face. He wasn’t there. She leaned against the wall and pulled her skirts up to prod gingerly at her ankle. It wasn’t damaged, she was sure, but it would be sore.

Later that day when she had served her master his tea, he had remarked on her slight limp with a frown. Belle could hear the concern in his voice that he tried so hard to hide, but she shrugged it off as having tripped on the stairs. She still couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t the cause of the strange occurrence earlier, and if he was testing her, waiting for her to complain aloud, she might regret saying anything. Still, he bade her sit down and join him for tea, so she at the very least had a few minutes to rest her aching foot. Later that evening when she had returned to her room, she had found a cold compress in a small bucket of ice awaiting her by her bed.

The second time occurred less than three days later. Belle had decided to make herself a mid-morning pot of tea and was leaning closer to the fire to put the full kettle on to heat when there was that peculiar whistling sound again and she was suddenly plunged feet first into lukewarm water. She yelped in shock and was rewarded with a mouthful of water. With her eyes screwed shut, she coughed and spluttered, trying to clear her lungs of liquid and stay afloat. In the water, even her light-weight practical skirts pulled her down and she kicked desperately to keep her head clear.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” she cried, her throat sore from the swallowed water. A pair of hands grabbed by the upper arms moments later, hauling her up and out of the water. He laid her on the stone floor, the mercifully dry, stone floor. Rolling onto her stomach, Belle coughed up the water. It wasn’t until her breathing had returned to something resembling normal that she realized his hand was still resting on her shoulder. She looked up at him, eyes streaming and hair hanging in her face, and for a moment saw concern on his face before it was erased and he stood up.

“What in the world did you think you were doing, dearie?” he asked, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “This tank is not for your swimming enjoyment.”

“Swimmi- I was not swimming!”

“Certainly not very well, to be sure,” Rumpelstiltskin retorted, glancing unconcerned at the puddles of water she had sloshed on the floor. “If your intention was to give yourself more floor to clean, then I might congratulate you on your accomplishment.” Belle clambered to her feet and squared off in front of him, jaw jutted out defiantly. The effect was somewhat lost among her water-logged dress and sodden auburn curls.

“I was in the kitchens, putting water on for tea. And suddenly, I was here.” She took a step towards him, determined to show him she would not be frightened. “You magicked me into that tank. Trying to make me a fool, or… I don’t know!” she huffed, her face flushed pink. “Just let me do my job, Rumpelstiltskin. I will not be bullied, and I’m not scared of you, or your magic.” With that she gave her skirts a good shake, splattering water over his scaly boots, and stalked out of the room, which the quickly realized was on the other side of the castle from the kitchens. Rumpelstiltskin was left staring at the spot she had just occupied, his large eyes blinking rapidly and a tick going in his cheek.

The third time, only the next day, Belle had been outside tending to the kitchen gardens. She finished pulling a particularly stubborn patch of weeds and turned to set her trowel down in the basket at her side. There was a loud hissing, spitting noise, and before Belle had any time to comprehend where it was coming from, she heard the familiar whistling and found herself hundreds of feet in the air, clinging to a wide tree branch. She shrieked and wrapped her arms and legs around the bough in a panic to keep from falling.

“RUMPELSTILTSKIN!” she screamed. She saw him appear on the ground directly below her, glancing around the garden. She could see him taking in the gardening tools and her own footprints in the moist soil. Then, slowly, he turned her face up to look at him, his brow furrowed.

“Rumpelstiltskin, get me down from here!” she shouted, shaking like a leaf on her perch high in the air. “This isn’t funny! I do not like heights! I’m-” She felt herself slipping and screamed, closing her eyes and clinging to the tree limb for dear life.

“What are you doing up there, dearie?” He paused, and even with her eyes closed, she could hear him smiling. “And, for that matter, how?”

“You tell me!” Belle replied, her voice higher than normal. “You put me up here!” There was the strange sensation of the world tilting and then a pressure on her feet. She opened her eyes and realized she was once more safely. Immediately, she dropped her arms to her sides.

“I did nothing of the sort, dearie, I assure you.”

“You did! You must have!” He only tilted his head at her, one eyebrow raised. “I was gardening and there was a hissing sound and-” He held up a hand to silence her, looking around at where her gardening tools sat. Without a moment of pause, he loped off, leaning down and reaching into the nearest hedge. When he pulled his hand back, she saw a long serpent wrapped around his arm, its head held firmly by his fist. The snake’s scales were black and a deep crimson. She gasped as she returned to her side, the snake clutched in one hand.

“Rat-tailed Outlander,” he said, more for show than for her own benefit, she felt. “Extremely rare. Extremely deadly.” She bit her lip, unsure of what to say in response to that. “It seems you’ve caught the….eye of someone, Lady Belle.” Frowning, she looked up at him.

“The… the snake?” He snorted.

“No, dearie. Not the snake. My Castle.” He turned to look up at the turrets and spires of the Dark Castle, seeming to having forgotten the incredibly poisonous snake in his hand. Belle was confused, following his gaze in the hopes of finding some clue in what he saw there.

“The Castle… I’ve caught the Castle’s…. Does the Castle have eyes?” Belle asked, and she saw Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth turn up in a smile.

“Not strictly speaking. But not every living creature, or even sentient creature, has the gift of sight. After all, look at the ogres.” He looked thoughtful, as though something had just occurred to him. “Come, I have an idea.” Belle looked back down at the hand he held the snake with and shouted again, jumping a foot in the air and grabbing Rumpelstiltskin’s arm tightly.

“The snake! It’s gone! Where…?”

“Oh, it’s quite safe, not to worry. Tucked away in a new den in my tower.” He looked down at her, bemused by the contact of her holding his arm. He stood very still until she let go of him, muttering an apology and brushing her hands down her skirt. “No matter…,” he murmured, and set off at a brisk pace, not waiting to see if she was following.

When they reached his tower workroom, Rumpelstiltskin bustled around the various tables and shelves, collecting bottles and depositing them before going to find more. Belle stood awkwardly by the steps, watching him.

“So, your Castle is alive?” she asked, unsure if the question made her sound like an ignorant girl or not.

“Quite alive, yes!” he replied, returning to the table once again and sounding quite pleased. Whether with her or with himself, Belle wasn’t sure. “Come here.” She obeyed and offered him her hand when he motioned for it.

“But, you said I had caught its…  _her?_ … eye. What does that me- OW!” She jerked her hand away from him, looking down at the tiny burn mark whatever he had pour on her had left.

“Hm… interesting. Still obedient above all else.” He held out his hand for hers again, but she cradled it against herself and took a step back.

“What did you do that for?” she asked, her hand and pride smarting.

“Please, Belle, let me heal it.” He reached out for her wrist, waving a hand over her palm where a purple mist formed. When the magic cleared, her hand was quite healed. He help her wrist for a moment longer, however, his rough thumb rubbing over the tender skin at her pulse. He visibly shook himself and pulled his hand away. “I needed to know if the Dark Castle would still protect you if it went directly against my wishes. It would seem not.”

“You wished to hurt me?”

“No, of course not.” Rumpelstiltskin looked taken aback by the very idea. “I simply needed…. But….” He frowned deeply, looking distracted again. After a long moment, he waved a hand through the air as though batting his thoughts away. “It would seem that my Castle has taken a particular liking to you, dearie.” He giggled. “Not every person to step over my threshold has found themselves in a vat of water far from the danger of fires, or up a tree for fear of poisonous serpents.” His eyes sparkled as the fingers of one hand drummed upon the wooden table beside him. “It appears that the only thing that might hurt you within the Castle and its grounds…. Is me.”

“I supposed I should comforted by that?” Belle asked. She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his over-large eyes. Her wrist tingled where his fingers had stroked her skin and she could feel heat rising in her face.

“Given how accident prone my caretaker seems to be? I should say so!” Rumpelstiltskin let loose another high-pitched giggle that sent shivers down Belle’s spine. “Now run along, dearie. You’ve chores to finish, I’m certain.” He flapped his hands at her until she turned to leave. At the top of the stairs, Belle paused and turned back to her master.

“If the Castle is trying to keep me safe, why would it put me so far up a tree where I was in just as much danger of falling than getting a snake-bite on the ground?” She was genuinely curious and she hoped he would find enough tolerance in him to answer one more question. On some days he seemed to have endless patience with her, while on others he seemed eager to be in any room that was away from her and her questing little brain and its plethora of enquiries.

“Ah well,” Rumpelstiltskin said, making a thoughtful little humming sound. “Intent is… everything, is it not?”


End file.
